Doctor Who Classicfied: Smith and Jones
by Derek Metaltron
Summary: When Martha Jones met the Doctor she knew her life would never be the same. But suppose instead of a lonely wanderer, she'd encountered the Second Doctor and Jamie on their latest mission for the Time Lords? AU, A Doctor Who Classicfied Fanfic, 2 of 4.
1. The Strange Recorder Man

_Across the furthest reaches of Time and Space, a hero known only as the Doctor travels within his TARDIS, determined to the last to protect the universe from some of its most evil forms. In particular, the Doctor has developed a fondness for the planet called Earth, saving it time and time again across multiple incarnations and personalities, be he alone or alongside his most loyal and trusted companions._

_But would his greatest adventures have been different if he had been in another body? Would a different ally change things for the better… or worse? If the deeds of the Ninth and Tenth Doctors had been performed by an earlier incarnation, what would happen then? This is…_

**DOCTOR WHO CLASSICFIED: SMITH AND JONES**

**Starring Patrick Troughton as the Doctor, Frazier Hines as Jamie McCrimmon and Freema Agyeman as Martha Jones**

_**This story takes place between 'The Two Doctors' and 'Spearhead From Space', during the period in which the Second Doctor and Jamie undertake missions for the powerful Time Lords between adventures through Time and Space.**_

* * *

Martha Jones was having a typical day.

That is to say that it wasn't a _normal_ day for her – her brother Leo was Twenty One today (Where had all that time flown? How had her little kid brother become a young man so fast?) and the air round the Jones family was abuzz with excitement, not all of it positive. Since the estrangement of her parents some time ago, every special occasion was the same – rowing between her ex-parents over every little criteria.

And as probably the most sensible person in her family, Martha typically was the one cool-headed enough - months of medical training and calmed sessions with dozens of worried patients – to know how to tackle more intrapersonal situations like the ones she found with her family. _As usual._

Her phone beeped and she flicked it open, speaking as ever in that pleasant tone she used with all of her family. "You're up early! What's happening?"

First up in the likely long list of phone calls was Tish, her equally 'They Grow So Fast' little sister, all busy in the midst of some secretarial role with an aged scientist she couldn't put a name to – good for her, all the same.

The only other person in her family to reach such a successful if pressured role was her eerily identical and sadly late cousin Adeola. One of the many victims of the so-called 'Battle of Canary Wharf' that had seen hundreds of employees of the tower killed, it had been a big shock to Martha's otherwise unchanging existence. And of course, she knew _what_ was responsible. The Government had tried to pass the waves of Metal Men and Gold Machines as vast hallucinations, and a surprising number were prepared to accept that, but Martha didn't feel like doing that, not with no body to grieve over.

She returned to Tish, whose thoughts were on anything but science now though, except maybe family struggle. _"It's a nightmare, because Dad won't listen, and I'm telling you, Mum is going mental. Swear to God, Martha, this is epic. You've got to get in there and stop him."_

Martha readied herself. "How do I do that?"

"_Tell Dad he can't bring __**her**__!"_

Martha inwardly sighed. 'Her' happened to be Annalise, her father's latest blonde bombshell whose femme fatal charms had dug their way into her dad's head... not to mention his cash savings. But Tish was right, having Annalise in the same room as her mother-

The phone beeped, and again Martha had to be go-between, first for her brother who was quite content to forfeit a party if it would avoid a scene, then her mother Francine who was quite determined that Leo _would_ have a party and _nobody _would interfere, not least her former husband. And then finally Dad himself, who stated quite forcefully his position.

"_Martha? Now, tell your mother; Leo is my son, and I'm paying for half that party. I'm entitled to bring who I __**like**__."_ Martha tried her best to intervene but with Annalise's whiney voice and the rev of her father's flashy sports car, the line went dead.

She sighed again, content that at least here in the midst of London, amongst her work at the Royal Hope Hospital, she would be busy enough not to have to worry for a couple of hours about being moderator between the older generations at Leo's-

Just as she glanced up from her phone Martha's eyes locked with an oddly clothed man who stepped right out in front of her, brought a recorder to his lips and played what after a moment she recognised to be the first few notes of 'Twinkle Little Star'. "Like _that,_ see?" With an enormous grin and sparking eyes, he vanished back into the crowds, much to Martha's puzzlement. Shrugging at this brief display of oddity, she carried on towards her work place.

Turning the busy street corner Martha ruefully switched she'd brought an umbrella as the sounds of distant thunder rumbled through her ears. The thought of getting a soaking on top of everything else meant she never had time to prepare for the sudden shove as someone barged right past her.

Martha was well known for being the understanding sort but her day was already getting to her and _this_ was pushing it. "Hey, watch it mate!" It was a figure clothed completely in biker's gear, leathery gloves and a shiny helmet. Martha felt a slight pang of nervousness as the figure twirled for a moment and stared _right _at her, no trace of humanity viewable with the sleek helmet over his face (or was it her? There was no way of knowing, not in that gear).

Then as soon as the leather bound figure had turned, _it_ marched almost militarily into the hospital reception. Faced with two sets of weird events in a matter of minutes had Martha slightly on edge, but her calm collected and rational mind kicked in and she proceeded inside.

* * *

Martha wanted to feel that the day was going to return to normal after her encounter with the Recorder Man, the leather bond biker man _and_ the curious electric shock she had received from her medical locker when getting her work clothes, but even though Mr Stoker's regular inspections were normal, there was still something not quite right. As the team of Medical Students gathered round a kindly old lady named Florence Finnegan, Martha saw out the corner of her eye two of the same shifty clothed bikers she'd seen before, exiting a lift in perfect unison before marching off down a side corridor. Then she willed herself to focus on the tasks at hand – Leo's party problems and the odd man on the street had clearly gotten to her and were making her see things which weren't important.

Mr Stoker appeared to be busy testing the students over Florence's current condition of dizziness and hadn't noticed the biker-men at all. "Hm... Pulse is slightly thready. Well, let's see what Britain's finest might suggest. Any ideas, Mr Morgenstern?"

Her usually nervous college piped up. "Dizziness can be a sign of early onset diabetes."

"_Hardly_ early onset, if you'll forgive me, Miss Finnegan." Though Mr Stoker was liable to be overly critical and unforgiving to the medical students, Martha knew he had least had theirs and the patient's interests at heart. "Any more ideas? Swales?" He motioned at one of Martha's best friends, the Indian Swales who was often of a similar disposition to Morgenstern in the heat of the moment.

"Um... could recommend a CT scan."

Stoker tutted. "And use all our money? Jones, I hope you of all people have a simple recourse to hand?"

Martha, determined to prove herself to the Consultant, quickly thought of the best option she could think of. "We could take bloods and check for Meniere's disease?"

The man sighed. "Or... we could simply _ask _the patient. What did you have for dinner last night, Miss Finnegan?"

"I had Salad."

"And the previous evening?"

"Salad again."

"And salad every night for the past week, _contrary_ to my instructions. Salt deficiency, that's what. Simple, honest _salt_."

As Stoker moved down the hall with the students and Martha mentally kicked herself for missing such an obvious option she saw the Bikers move down another hall pass her group. She was in two minds about inquiring at the desk about their jobs when the team of would-be Doctors entered another ward... and she saw _him._

The Recorder Man, sitting as comfortably as you like and a large grin on his face as Stoker approached him.

He wasn't wearing his outdated outfit from the morning – just some hospital branded pyjamas – but he still had that mop headed, somewhat greyed hair and the curious child-like eyes she remembered from earlier. Martha couldn't make a guess as to how old he was – the hair made him seem perhaps in his late forties or early fifties, but she got the impression that perhaps he'd merely been through something which had affected him in such a manner as to alter his looks. Despite this he was still quite decent looking, in an outlandish sort of way.

Stoker greeted him as he did with all those in his care. "Now then, Mr Smith, a very good morning to you. How are you today?"

The mop haired man shrugged. "Oh well, I've been better. Lots of nasty things, but a little better, yes..."

"Indeed... John Smith, admitted yesterday with severe abdominal pains. Jones, why don't you see what you can find? _Try_ to amaze me." Stoker added irritably.

Determined as ever to outdo herself and Stoker Martha stepped up, though not before wanting to question the patient's previous actions that morning. "That wasn't very clever, running around outside, was it?"

John Smith seemed to look genuinely surprised. "Erm, I'm sorry?"

"On Chancery Street this morning. You came up to me and played a recorder." She spotted the aforementioned object on the bedside table and pointed. "_That_ recorder there."

The patient seemed to digest this. "Did I indeed? I must say that sounds like a silly thing for me to do. But I was in here. You can ask all the nice Nurses... or young Jamie there!" He pointed to a younger man sitting in a bed just opposite, who unlike John Smith seemed quite unhappy to be stuck in bed. "Jamie, I was here this morning, wasn't I?"

The Scotsman (Martha knew that even before he opened his mouth – no Englishman would have 'McCrimmon' as a last name written on his medical chart otherwise) nodded slowly back at Mr Smith. "Oh aye, the Do-" He trailed off at a quick stern look from Smith which only Martha seemed to catch. "...both Mr Smith and I were in here since yesterday, lass, you have my word on that one."

Martha turned back to the patient with a perplexed frown. "But that's weird, because he looked _just_ like you. Have you got a brother?"

John Smith seemed to think for a moment. "Oh... I think so. Haven't seen him for a while, but I doubt he'll look like me. Identical Regeneration doesn't run in the..." Once again he trailed off and glanced at her as if he'd spoiled the ending of a good book. "Do forgive me; I was rather speaking nonsense for a moment there."

Before Martha could probe further she saw Stoker's stern face wanting results and opted to use her stethoscope, wondering if indeed there was a family connection between the Scottish man and John Smith, who seemed a little more friendly in conversation than your two typical patients. Then her thought ran directly to the man in front of her bed and she stared up at him with some confusion, prompting a small grin on his face.

Stoker coughed loudly. "I weep for further generations. Are you having trouble locating the heart, Miss Jones?"

Martha gave a nervous smile, attempting to distance herself from the impossibility of the man in front of her. She'd detected _two_ heart beats, but surely that was...? "Um. I don't know. Stomach cramps?" She opted to buy some time for herself, or else get Mr Stoker to check.

The consultant grunted slightly. "That is a _symptom_, not a diagnosis. And you rather failed basic techniques by not consulting first with the patient's chart-" As he leaned down to pick it up a static shock struck his hand, just as Martha had found in the locker room, and caused him to drop the chart with a slight yelp of pain.

Several students quickly noted the same things had happened to them, including Martha, but Stoker had as always a logical response; "There's a thunderstorm moving in and lightning is a form of static electricity, as was first proven by - anyone?"

John Smith quickly piped up. "Oh, Benjamin Franklin!"

"Quite right, Mr Smith."

The patient seemed to look reminiscent. "Oh, that _was _a nice day with Ben. Vicki couldn't quite hold onto the kite though, and then poor Ian got soaked to the bone with rain and caught a cold, and _then_ we all had to rescue Barbara from those five-footed Guatanaums and their Rain Absorbers, dear me..." He seemed to be speaking to himself if anyone and getting a series of bemused confused looks, even from his apparent friend Jamie across the ward.

Stoker coughed then motioned to carry on. "Quite... I think perhaps a visit from psychiatric... and on our next visit..."

* * *

The hours moved on and all thoughts of the mysterious John Smith were soon removed from Martha Jones' mind as lunch and the prospect of sorting out the impending party loomed. She'd got back in touch with her sister, anxious to think of a way together to avoid their father's cash spending bimbo from turning up and upsetting their mother. "No, listen, I've worked out a plan. We tell Annalise that the buffet tonight is one hundred per cent carbohydrate, and she won't turn up."

Her sister didn't seem convinced on the other phone end. _"I wish you'd take this seriously. That's our inheritance she's spending. On fake tan. Tell you what, I'm not that far away, I'll drop by for a sandwich and we can draw up a plan."_

Martha frowned as she glanced out the window. "In this weather? I'm not going out, it's pouring down." Sure enough the window outside was showing some of the worst weather she'd remembered in weeks.

"_It's not raining here..."_ Her sister's voice trailed off... then sounded confused. _"That's weird. It's sitting right on top of you, I can see it, but it's dry where I am."_

"Well, sounds like you just got lucky."

"_No... it's like in cartoons where the guy has a rain cloud overhead."_

Martha looked back outside, but the rain was still pouring from her perspective, and her sister wasn't the lying type. Ignoring the paradox she returned to the question of the party, neither her or Swales noticing the short mop headed John Smith wondering past their kitchen, just stopping for a moment to glance in and then carry on.

"But listen, I tell you what we'll do. We tell Dad and Annalise to get there early, for about 7:30, for Leo to do his birthday stuff. We tell Mum to come about 8:30 or nine, and that gives me time to have a word with Annalise, and-" She stopped as she felt Swales' hand brush her arm. "What?"

"The rain..." The Indian girl was staring out the window in amazement, her mouth open.

"It's only rain-" Martha started but the voice of Tish interrupted further conversation.

"_Martha! Have... Have you seen the rain?"_

Martha frowned at both the phone and Swales. "Why's everyone fussing about rain?"

The girl pointed directly at the rain and Martha stared harder as it dawned on her. "Its... its going up."

"_Martha... the rain is going __**up**__..."_

Then all at once, the world went _insane_. Everything shook violently for a couple of seconds as Martha and Swales struggled to hold onto anything. Outside it became incredibly bright, and then... silence.

Martha picked herself up. "What in the hell was that? It felt like an earthquake..."

Swales was once more glancing at the window. "It's _night_. But... it was lunchtime a second ago..."

Martha turned to look about. There was a darker feel to the place, but how on Earth could that be...

Her heart went to her throat as she looked outside.

They were _on the moon._ Lunar craters. The orb which was the Earth several thousand miles away. Grey rocks, Neil Armstrong, small steps and giant leaps.... _everything_ she had read about the moon was _right out there._

"We're on the moon..." She whispered aloud. "We're on the _bloody_ moon..."


	2. The Secret of Mr Smith

Martha was trying not to go into a panic. There was no real indication of what had just happened to her – she was quite simply, alongside with her colleges and a good thousand patients, on the moon. All she could do in the heat of the moment was to remain calm and carry on doing her job. To show her feelings on the matter would scare all of the others, so her medical training kicked in and he felt herself begin to direct dozens of men and women back to their wards. "All right, everyone back to bed; we've got an emergency but we'll _sort it out_."

Of course she hadn't _any _idea how to move a hospital a couple thousand miles back to home sweet home, but she was determined to do what she _could_ do, and that was to use her ability as a practicing student of medicine and help the people round her. Dozens of requirements and needs to ensure the wellbeing of others flooded into her brain and she ran into a nearby ward, Swales just behind her. Martha was more than a bit concerned to see that the Indian girl wasn't coping as well under the admittedly difficult circumstances, a slight whimper from her throat as she continued to stare into the foreboding blackness beyond the glass window.

She looked out herself, still needing a moment each time she stared to really accept the impossible facts. "It's real. It's _really_ real. Hold on..." Anxious to test a theory she reached for the grasp to the window-

Swales shrieked out in panic not to open it, but strong rational thought had entered Martha's brain and she was certain they were safe. "They're not exactly airtight, are they? If the air was going to get sucked out it would have happened straight away, but it _didn't_. So how come?"

"Oh yes, a very good question, my dear." Martha spun round to see the strange mop-haired John Smith, once more dressed in that bizarre black costume which seemed to be something a clown would wear with its torn trousers and worn jacket, complete with a spotted handkerchief and a mysterious jewelled ring on one hand. "That's quite a logical question there... um, what was your name again?"

"Martha. Martha Jones. And this is Swales, my friend."

Mr Smith beamed brightly. "Yes, I'm very pleased to meet you, Miss Jones, and your friend too. No need to be frightened my dear; I'll try and sort everything out if I can." His words were so filled with warm and genuine comfort that Martha's friend stopped her crying and resorted to mere nervous glances at him. He called out into the corridor with a shout of "Jamie! Do get in here, there's a good fellow."

Sure enough the Scottish lad from before ran in, much to Martha's amusement actually _wearing_ a Highlands Kilt. Indeed in his new attire Mr McCrimmon almost seemed to be from another time entirely, his clothing suggesting to the medical student a Scotland of the distant past. She instantly got the impression that the apparently unrelated pair of misfits had some sort of connection to all this weirdness, and she resolved to learn in time what it might be.

"So then Martha... I can call you Martha, yes?" Mr Smith was polite if to nothing else.

"Of course, I'd actively encourage it Mr Smith... if I can call you John?" Even in the wake of being on the moon Martha found her usual own polite patient-to-doctor manner managing to remain, particularly for this man.

The man seemed nerved for a moment, as if caught with his hand in the cookie jar, then changed the subject. "_Yes_... Well in any case, the question remains... how is it we are all still breathing? Perhaps we have a balcony of some sort in the hospital that would be a good place to start?" He motioned to Jamie and then pointed to Swales. "Perhaps you could use your usual charm and look after this lady for me in the meantime, hey Jamie?"

The Scotsman got a little flustered. "Now just a minute Doc... Mr Smith, ye can't expect me to just not do 'othing important whilst you and ye new friend sort everything out. Besides, I wanna see the moon again like we did with-"

An alarmed stare from Mr Smith shut him up, and Martha wondered what on Moon she had gotten herself into here. Still, the prospect of trying to go outside challenged and excited her at the same time, and moving down the hallways with the mop-haired man she really barely knew - whilst his Scottish ally was seen to keep Swales company for the time being - seemed oddly logical to her. This man _knew_ what he was doing, and her rational mind made Martha want to stick close to him, possibly even try and help if it was in her power, no matter how oddly dressed the fellow might be. Somehow he made her feel able to do something; not fret like others would about family or friends back down there, but concentrate on the here and now.

The veranda was in sight. Taking a breath she wondered if she would need, Martha reached for the door handle and trusting to luck, pulled the doors open.

* * *

Nothing happened. The world didn't fade from her, the patients continued to breathe as normal. She was alive, and that was what mattered most. There was _a chance._ No, more than that, there was a reason... something artificial for their survival.

Mr Smith was speaking to her. "So... we seem to be alive. That's encouraging, I think."

"I know. I mean... I've got a party tonight, my brother's twenty first, and my mother could be really, really..." She steadied herself – she could not afford to think like that, not while others counted on her.

"Are you alright, Martha?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I mean, we could die any minute, but all the same - it's _beautiful_."

Smith put his hands in his pockets and grinned slightly. "Yes, I've often thought so."

She questioned that remark in his head, coupled with what Jamie had said earlier. It almost sounded like Mr Smith had- nah, she was probably reading into a sentence or two wrong, so she let it slip and carried on. "How many people want to go to the moon? And here we are!"

"Standing in the earthlight. Quite beautiful."

She turned back to him with an enquiring look. "So what do you think happened?"

"I have a couple of nasty theories, Martha. How about you?"

She hesitated for a second, afraid to seem insane to suggest it but under the circumstances... "_Extraterrestrial._ It's got to be. I don't know, a few years ago that would have sounded mad, but _these days?_ That spaceship flying into Big Ben - Christmas - those Cybermen things..." She slowed as the man's face twisted into one of surprise. "You alright, Mr Smith?"

He retained that confused look. "Oh yes, fine my dear. It just that I didn't expect someone to know of the... erm, about those things you mentioned." She heard him mutter under his breath something strange - "-have sworn the Brigadier told me that that whole nasty business with Electromatics wouldn't come out, dear me..." before he gave a nervous smile and twiddled his fingers. "So... you're used to aliens then my dear?"

Martha raised an eyebrow as if this was a trick question of some kind. "Yeah, I guess we are now... I mean I know the rest of Britain hasn't heard of much about such things... but I know they exist. I had a cousin. Adeola. She worked at Canary Wharf. She never came home."

"Oh, I'm sorry to hear that." Again the look of lack of knowledge entered his face, but equally clear was his genuine sympathy. John might not know about any of the things she described – odd to Martha as he seemed perfectly in his element on the moon, odd in itself – but he was a kind man to confess such matters to.

She straightened herself, her rational side returning to the fore. "I promise you, Mr Smith, we will find a way out. If we can travel to the moon, then we can travel back. There's got to be a way."

The little man coughed slightly. "Well, regarding that my dear... John Smith isn't my real name."

"Who are you then?" Martha felt she'd been expecting something like this to happen.

"Oh, I'm the Doctor."

"Me too, if I can pass my exams!" She laughed, happy to have found a fellow medical person in her midst. "What is it, then, Doctor Smith?"

"Well no... it's _just_ the Doctor."

She had to raise an eyebrow at that. "What... so people just call you... 'The Doctor'?"

The man got defensive. "And what's wrong with being called Doctor?"

"Nothing. Just as far as I'm concerned, you're got to earn that title." She told him matter of factly.

"Well... I'd better impress you then. Now, we know there's a force-field of some kind protecting the hospital from losing air, which we equally know to be part of some alien intervention."

Martha started a little. "So if this air is in some kind of bubble, what happens when the air runs out?"

The Doctor stared out darkly. "No, not a pleasant thought, lots of people dying from losing oxygen." He looked downtrodden for a moment. "You know these days I'm meeting too many lots of nasty people who want to do somewhat bad things to Oxygen... Ice Warriors, killer seaweed..."

She stared back at him with a raised eyebrow. "Has anyone ever told you that you might be just a bit mad?"

He seemed happy at the comment. "Oh, thanks for saying so. A little madness always helps."

"So then, you've know what's causing these conditions? These... 'Ice Warrior' things?"

He shook his head. "Oh definitely not, I think the Ice Warriors are rather pleasant at this time, it's much later they go all problematic and try and conquer Earth. No, I was rather thinking – _Oh my giddy Aunt!"_ He pointed alarmingly at a sudden looming shape appearing just above them. Martha just couldn't believe it... they were spaceships! Real spaceships – shaped like a thick cigar on its tip, and great claws at its base which were designed to dig into the lunar surface which it did so as they landed several metres from the hospital.

For a moment, nothing happened. Then a squad of soldiers appeared to march down the gangways and form into organised files, heading indefinitely towards the hospital. She heard the screams of patients as they saw the aliens loom ever closer.

"_Aliens... Real living aliens..." _She whispered out loud.

The man called the Doctor seemed grave. "Judoon; warriors of the Shadow Proclamation. Nasty thuggish types who go around wearing shiny boots and always asking such silly questions. Oh dear... this _will _be a bit of a pickle."

* * *

They rushed inside the hospital, instantly bumping into Jamie who was coming from the opposite direction. "Doctor... the Rhino Things showed up just like ye said they wou-" He slowed as he spotted Martha. "Er, I mean-"

"It's quite alright Jamie." The Doctor was smiling back at him as the trio reached the top of the landing where the reception could be viewed from relative safety. "I've started to tell Miss Jones about, ah, our real identities-"

"- and now you're going to finish it." Martha was surprised at the level of authority in her voice. Behind the plant pots which they were concealed she could see poor Morgenstern being pushed up against the wall by the leader Judoon, sure enough enormous Rhino-like creatures dressed in strict military black attire and sporting several pieces of what appeared to be futuristic weaponry. "You two know more than me and I think it's time we had some answers. I mean, you know all about _those_ aliens and 'Ice Warriors' - whatever _they_ are - but _nothing_ about what's happened in the last few months, you and your Scots friend wear the oddest pair of outfits I've seen in a while, and Jamie here knew these Judoon were like Rhinos before that one even took off his helmet! So, out with it, who are you?"

The two were quite simply stunned, and Martha instantly regretted her perhaps harsh words – the Doctor and Jamie were trying to help, whatever was going on. Still, it was a fair point.

Jamie turned to the Doctor in front of her and prodded him. "What ye telling her about Ice Warriors and the like for anyway, Doctor? I thought you said not to let people in this time know about those wee aliens, and now yeh breaking your own rules, not that that's surprising-"

The other man looked angry and prodded the Scot back. "Oh do calm down Jamie, you're only confusing the poor girl more!" He turned back to her and adopted that beaming smile. "It's quite simple my dear... _I think. _I and Jamie weren't here just by accident, you see, we detected plasma coils which led us here, had to pretend to be all sickly. The Judoon are here for something so important and aliened that they had to use a H20 Scoop to bring it to the Moon. There was an incident on Earth you see some decades back, and the Judoon as a result couldn't have any rights over the Earth and its laws. So because they couldn't go to Earth, they've isolated us here. You see, all nice and simple."

"...Right." She said slowly. Morgenstern had been probed and somehow the Judoon were now able to speak English, some form of translation device the leader had installed on his chest giving his mean the ability to speak any language – it seemed handy. But Martha was half busy trying to comprehend their plans for the hospital, never mind who the Doctor and Jamie really were. For someone who talked so much, this Doctor revealed alarmingly little.

"So... If they're police, are we all under arrest? Are we trespassing on the moon or something?" She might as well try various questions; see if that loosened the mysterious Doctor's tongue.

"No, though that's pretty good Martha, well done. But no, I reckon they're cataloguing everyone in the hospital in order to locate something non-human, which frankly is not good in my case."

Those words didn't register to her for a moment. Then her eyes widened. "Oh you're kidding me.... you two are... aliens?"

The Doctor smiled kindly. "Well if you must know Jamie isn't an alien, he's a rather smashing Scottish Piped Piper from Seventeen Hundred and Forty Six. But I am. I'm a Time Lord to be exact, from the planet Gallifrey. I rather expect you haven't heard of it."

"...erm, no." Was all her brain could manage. Aliens? The Moon? _Seventeen Hundred and..._ She really wanted to lie down and try and process all of this, but time was of the essence and she realized that the Doctor and Jamie were running down the corridor, so she moved after them.

* * *

The so-called 'Time Lord' appeared interested in the record rooms after a few minutes of swift running and avoiding the armoured Judoon as they stomped determinedly through the corridors, stopping only to scan and stick marks on every human they encountered.

Upon entering the room Martha found that the Doctor was himself scanning the computer with some hand-sized object, Jamie standing over him. "What's that thing?"

"Oh, that's the Doctor's sonic screwdriver." Jamie seemed happy to be able to speak for himself as the Doctor moved the controls.

Martha found herself giggling. "Ok, what else has he got - a _laser spanner_?"

"I did, but it was stolen by Emily Pankhurst, the cheeky woman. And after I went to all the trouble of stopping those Quarks from blowing up her plane, dear me..." The Doctor spoke without turning his head. The words might have been Martian to Martha, who just shrugged and accepted the eccentricity of this strange man.

The Scotsman held out a hand. "Oh, we probably haven't had a proper introduction yet. The name Jamie - Jamie McCrimmon."

Martha took his hand and shook it warmly. "Nice to meet you Jamie. So... Seventeen Hundred and Forty Six? What's all that about? Some kind of secret society or group you two work for?"

Jamie shook his head. "No lass, ye got it all wrong. That's where I came from in glorious Scotland, my 'time period'... something like that. We work for the Time Lords though, so yeh kind of right there."

Martha nodded, happy to use the Doctor's go-between to get the answers she wanted. "And the Time Lords are aliens? Aliens which look very human apparently, if strangely dressed and have odd names..." She glanced at the back of the Doctor, before realizing what Jamie had meant. "You mean the _year_ Seventeen Hundred and... But that's...!"

She was stopped by a cry from the Doctor. "Oh, those stupid nitwits! Those Judoon have only gone and wiped all those helpful hospital records – there's an alien in the hospital, well besides me, and it doesn't occur to them that they might just be useful? Bah!" The man put a hand on his chin and seemed to be sulking.

She decided to try and be helpful. "So we need to find this alien before the Judoon does, right?"

"Oh_ yes_, or it's quite likely they'll kill everyone in the hospital to find it, they can be quite awful brutes for officials you know, why the Shadow Proclamation lets them be so mean I don't know-"

She became more insistent. "Doctor, just let me what I should look for to let me and Jamie find the alien, any hints about what to look for."

"Well if it's what I suspect it can change its shape to look human. But anyone admitted in the past week with odd symptoms would be a good bet."

She straightened up. "Mr Stoker might know. You keep trying to get back into the records and I'll go with Jamie to find him."

The Doctor turned up from his glum pose and grinned at her. "Now that is well thought out. You're a very intelligent woman, Martha Jones. Doesn't she remind you of Zoe, hey Jamie?" And with that he moved back to his work.

* * *

Martha and Jamie headed down the corridors once again in the direction of Mr Stoker's office, all the time seeing the increasingly deoxygenated staff and patients, not to mention trying to avoid the odd Judoon who thankfully had yet to mak their presence fully known on this level of the hospital.

Questions were still buzzing in Martha's mind. "So who's Zoe?"

Jamie looked a little sad. "Oh, she was a good friend of me and the Doctor in the TARDIS... that's our ship. Kinda hard to talk about, she left a while back. Now it's just me and the Doctor, working for the Time Lords and doing their dirty tasks they don't want to do between trips round the universe."

She stared across at him, their legs still moving. "Sounds like an interesting life."

"Yeah, but it can be dangerous too. Just like now. Not to worry, the Doctor will sort things out, he always beats the wee monsters in the end."

As they reached Stoker's office Jamie and Martha knocked on the door and without waiting moved inside. The sight which greeted them was shocking, then horrifying. First Martha instantly recognised Mr Stoker, dead and lying on the floor, then the twin pair of helmet wearing bikers who turned to stare at her in unison. And then finally...

Florence Finnegan, the kindly old salad eating lady from down the hallway, was sucking at Mr Stoker's throat with a plastic straw. As she drew up, the smallest drop of blood was visible on her lower lip.

Jamie's eyes were wide with fear. "Hoots Morn! The old lass is a vampire!"

Martha snapped out of her shock and pulled the Highlander's arm. "Come on – _run Jamie_!"

As they bolted out of the room the steeled words of "Kill them!" erupted from Finnegan's throat and they heard the twinned creatures which were their would-be murderers close in on them...


End file.
